Between Love and Hate
by babyb26
Summary: Pocahontas fic. Two world collide leaving two people on the boundaries between love and hate.
1. Chapter 1 Visions that shape destiny

**Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. It makes historical suggestions, but it is fiction and not history. If you choose to flame let it be on the story itself and not on the fact that it differs from actual history. I don't own any Disney characters (I would love to, but I don't) nor history. This story is written for creation and entertainment only. This disclaimer extends through all chapters. Thanks enjoy. **

Between Love and Hate

Chapter 1- Visions that shape destiny

North America 

_1607 _

The wind blew from the east, bringing with it the smell of earth and pine. Nestled between the warmth of a dying fire and the soft furs that made her bed, she gently pulled her mantle close for warmth as she lay rolling from sided to side in a fitful dream. A dream that contained her darkest fears and the path to her future.

_Alone in the dark of night she ran through the forest from an unseen danger that choked the very air around her. Suddenly she stopped; in front of her was an arrow like no other she had seen. The arrow began to spin faster and faster then stopped as suddenly as it began. A blinding light burst from an undefended center, then the light as blinding as the sun enveloped around her and its warmth filling every pore._

The native woman bolted straight up awake, bathed in moisture and breathing raged as if she had just run a race with her best friend. The pull of the long house door frightened her. "Pocahontas get up, your father will be home soon." Nakoma, I will be out soon," was her response as her friend again called from the door. She dressed as quickly as she could, to the river she would go first to make offering to the goddess that protected her, the crops, and the fertility of her people. In its waters she would renew her body in its life giving essence. "What took you so long, was it the dream again" Nakoma asked. Pocahontas looked into her friends' face, its round shaped and color matched her own. "Yes" was her shaky response. "You must visit the wise women, maybe she can help you?" "Nakoma, I hope so."

They made there way towards the river, stepping over puddles of water from the early morning rain. The forest was lush with vegetation in deep greens and earthen browns. Pocahontas was the first to the river and as she disrobed and was pleased with what she saw. The water reflected the perfectly round face with black eyes that most said looked like pools of darkness. It was said that her nose small and slightly flat was that of a women she had never met, her mother. In her opinion, her mother had been sold at her birth, to a great warrior in the North for peace also to honor the law in which her father, the great Powhatan made. He kept no wife once she had given birth to his child.

By her people this was seen as a great honor, to have once been the wife of a great king and to have born his child. A motherless child was the price for peace and honor. From the water she glanced at the smooth plains of her face and traced her hand along her full lips that were tinted red from crushed tree bark. The majestic length of her raven hair, which was oiled and perfumed, encircled a body that had was womanly in all respects. She bathed in the cool water, letting it fill her soul while she prayed to the river goddess to renew the crops of her people, to plaint the seeds of happiness in her heart, and to ease her troubled mind for the deliverance that she sought.

Her calm was disturbed by her friend's insistence that she see the wise women before here father come back form his latest war with the Monacans. "You know your father hates you seeing the wise women," Nakoma added. "That's only because she equals in power to him, that of which he'd never admit." "Nakoma, she makes our pleas to the gods, she's a healer, most of all she interprets our destiny. How else do you think my father got his power?"

"Pocahontas, we still need to be back in the village when he comes." "Then lets go." The two women eagerly raced to the clearing hidden deep within a glade that served as the wise woman's home. With Nakoma lagging behind and caution sounding through her body, Pocahontas slowly made her way to the hut's entrance. "Do you think she in there," Nakoma's solemn voice questioned?"

"Of course I am child" was the sudden answer from the hut. "My child Pocahontas come in, I've been waiting for you." "Go" was the only response Nakoma could give. Pocahontas tentatively stepped through the door and was instantly bathed in the spiritual essence of her ancestors. "Many blessings to you that you will see me Meda," Pocahontas gratefully offered. "I see you are suffering, a dream is it." "Yes Meda." "Tell it to me child"

The young native woman retold her account as requested. Pulling white powder from the doeskin attached to her waste, Meda placed it upon the flames of her fire and offered the sprits a chant. As the chant grew to a close, Earth energy enveloped her and in a trance gave her the semblance of a goddess. When she spoke her voice held the resonance of an unequal power, a power far beyond the strength of man, it was in this voice that she foretold Pocahontas' destiny.

"The Dream Giver chooses to set your destiny in place now child." "The path ahead of you holds such sorrow, but rebirth will be found, if you choose it." "You will build a bond, a bond that will link you forever, child don't turn your heart away from it." "The Goddess chooses for your loneliness to end, but in all things child we will pay a price, even for love and that is our true sin." The unearthly power slowly begin to fade breaking Meda's trance. Pocahontas thanked the Meda and slowly made her way through the door when she heard the old woman say, "love him child."

Meda- means priestess


	2. Chapter 2 Trials and Tribulations

Chapter 2- Trials and Tribulations

_The Susan Constant- Atlantic Ocean_

_1607_

"Oh there he is, it's our king, all hail King Smith," the voice said in the cold monotone born to that of his class. "Ratcliffe, I never said such, don't lower yourself to this," Smith answered. "You are a low class liar at that," Ratcliffe spoke. Smith's hand went for the sword at this side. "Recant that lie, sir." "I do not lie, for I speak truth." "Take back your words or you will regret that you said them."

"I do not lie." For a moment, there was silence and the only thing that was heard was the beating of hearts and the swell of the ocean. The two men stared at each other with coldness in there eyes. As suddenly, as the wind shifted Smith's sword was out, poised, and pressed to the throat of Ratcliffe. "Take your lie back or you will die" "Will not." Smith pressed deeper into Ratcliffe's throat as a small bead of blood slivered down Ratcliffe's neck.

Smith's eyes wide and nostrils flaring as anger clouded his face. "Take back your words." In the distance Captain John Smith heard angry footsteps headed his way, however he was determined to hold his ground.

"Smith let him go, I command you." Smith turned to look at the man that was his friend and the captain of the ship. In the shadow of the larger man he saw another friend, a youngman that he had taken under his wing and protection. Smith hesatintly turned back to his adversary and pressed even deeper into his throat. "Smith, I am now speaking as your friend and captain, let him go. If you kill him you die as well."

As suddenly as he drew the blade he sheathed it. "Captain he forced me to do this, he disgraced me." Ratcliffe with an air of surprise stated, "I have not provoked him he has attacked me on his own because of this own lies. Captain you must take him into custody before he means to kill us all."

" Know this." Newport then wirily add "he will be confined until it will be decide if he will hang for this or not." Smith stood tall and looked at his close friend, "I have not done this without provocation. He has hated me before we left London. He has abused me and my honor" "Smith give me your weapons and I will hold court and then we will decide your fate. For now you will be held in your cabin." Smith reluctantly turned over his sword and dagger to Newport. Newport watched as Smith walked to his cabin and descended into the recesses of his cabin. Newport ordered the cabin to be guarded until the hearing could take place.

Night enveloped John as he lay prostrate across his bed dissolved completely in the darkness of the night as the fresh air, traced with salt caressed his skin. He heard the door to his cabin open and to this he expected Ratcliffe to send someone to kill him. He was ready for a fight and may it be to the death, he had nothing left to live for. As he readied himself for his strake he heard the movements of not a murderer about to take his life, but the uneasy precautious footsteps that he knew belonged to his friend Thomas. "John, it's me" John slowly gathered himself up and looked at his friend, "He means to be rid of me one way or another." "John they might hang you, you will lose your chance to govern." "I know Thomas, let's just hope I can survive this one. I'll worry about governing if the chance needs be."

"Bring him out, this inquiry starts now," the agitated voice ordered. "Captain Newport he should be put in to the galley" Ratcliffe the soon to be governor of the territory of Virginia scoffed. The door to the small cramped cabin opened. Through the small door was pushed the man in question. With chains at his wrist and legs, he entered the room with a deliberate grace laced with willful pride.

As he stood with the weight of twenty gazes upon him, the man stood stone like and proud as judgment was made. "Mutiny," Ratcliffe yelled. "The man is clearly up to it he has planed to do it from the start. Smith holds no respect for those in command or station, he does as he wishes."

"He thinks himself as hero and turn the men to do his favor," another madden gentleman offered. "Once he reaches land, God he would probably declare himself king." "That is untrue," John Smith said simply. Filled with rage Ratcliffe eased out of his chair and stood face to face with Smith. Smith did not flinch, pacifying the anger slowly building within him. "Smith you are a liar look at the lies you have already told. Fighting in armies for your own glory and concocting tales that move you above your station, and then using charm like a whore to get what you want.

"I was provoked into the fight with you and I would do it again for the same reason, my honor. You are jealous of me Ratcliffe. You tell lies against me and if I we unchained I would make you pay." "I care for this voyage, I will say this again it is your jealousy and lack of courage that pits you against me." "See his arrogance," a gray haired man barked. "Truth," responded Smith. Newport shook his head, "Smith by charge of mutiny you should hang at first landing. I see no evidence of this charge.

However your actions do constitute to defiance, I can't have my captains kill each other. So, I sentence you to the hold for the remainder of this voyage. As the crowd moved from the room Ratcliffe leaned close to John's ear and whispered "This isn't over" and in John's heart he knew it wasn't. John stood rooted to his spot waiting for hands to claps his shoulder and take him to the dark, dank, sweltering heat of the hold, where he would remain chained, a prisoner until he reached the New World.


	3. Chapter 3 Homecomings

Chapter 3- Homecomings

_North America_

_1607_

A loud war cry pierced the midday air as the war party swiftly cut across the smooth surface of the sheltered bay of the Powhatan village. "Nakoma hand me the other basket we must gather more roots for the feast to night." Lazily the young woman handed her friend the basket. With a triumphant smile, Pocahontas grabbed the basket.

"Daughter," it was the one word that she had longed to hear these many months. It was the one word that meant that her prayers had been answered and now her king, her protection, her pride, and most of all her father was home. The young woman let out a sigh of relief as the basket hit the ground, turning to the warm embrace of a god king on earth. "Father." It happened that it was the only word that she could muster as she looked into his grieved eyes. His dark rumbling of a voice answered her as if he already knew the question in her eyes.

"I am well daughter, just tired; do not fear I am home." "Father I am so glad your home," Pocahontas voiced as she sank deeper into her father's embrace. "Now, would you kindly escorted your old father to his home, we have much to discuss but for now I am tired." Reluctantly, she released herself from the safety of those arms "Never old father, never old." She lovingly grabbed her father's hand and they began the trek back towards the village.

_The Susan Constant- North America_

_1607_

"Land ho" a shirtless sailor yelled. Upon the call, all cabin doors burst open and instantly the quite deck was swarmed with sailors, captains, gentlemen, farmers, and those of lesser accompaniment alike. Slowly gathering out of bed Captain Newport followed his crew and watched the sight of land unfold before him. As the ship moved inland the ship drew closer to the alien land before them. Men gasped at size of great trees as large as the buildings they had seen in Europe.

As thin mist enveloped the ship's men stood transfixed to the planks as the world that they would make their home unveiled itself. The silence of moment was broken as a crash of doors opened and the molested movement of air followed as Ratcliffe made his was to Newport. With a sour faced Newport turned, his back to the raging men headed his way. "Newport he should be hung now." With a mixture of surprise mixed with agitation Newport turned to the new governor, just sanctioned by the sight of land.

"What I ruled on this ship two months ago will stand Ratcliffe. In this land you maybe supreme, but on my ship I rule. Remember that sir," Newport spoke bitten back through bared teeth. With the acceptance of momentary defeat, Ratcliffe bowed. "And Ratcliffe, do as a leader should. Prepare your men to make ready a landing and scout the terrain so that we will find a suitable place to settle." "Our prime orders are start mining once we land; that is why we are here. It is not my job to prepare the party, it's Smith's job." "Sir, gold maybe a target of ours but survival is our prime goal, trust that. As far your scout goes he is so humbly detained, from works that were surmountedly concocted by you. So go, gather _your_ men to scout." "And so I shall Captain Newport." Newport turned and walked towards his cabin however he turned and headed towards the galley.

Through a port whole John glimpsed the first sight of the new land he would settle, if given the chance. With amazement, he watched the land in front of him turn form the stark grey of the mist, to the deep greens of forest. As he wondered at the immense size of the trees he reminded himself that the lumber and other natural resources that would be discovered, could be exported hoping that this just might satisfy the lust of the financial backers of the expedition.

The darkness had eaten at him, he dampness rained upon him like a rain cloud trapped like he, but the worst had been the silence. Silence, it had always been his down fall his own personal torturer, but he dealt as best as he knew how he retreated within himself. As silence reigned, he thought of his youth in Lincolnshire, the fumbles of his teens, the conquest of both land and women he met on his travels, much of his thoughts were of travels- the freedom he had known-the glory, and most at hand were his plan for this new land.

He hoped to recapture glory, maybe leave a legacy worthy of notoriety, and most hopefully after all of his searching find his true self. The sudden noise of the door being opened and light flooding around the enclosed area brought him back to his senses. "Smith," He heard the voice and knew it as well as his own, as he waited he hoped Newport was here to end this imprisonment. "Here," was his answer and it dawned on him that he had forgotten the sound of his own voice.

As Newport stepped into the darkness he glazed at his friend with pity and self-loathing as Smith sat in the floor shielding his eyes from the light like demon released into heaven. "I am letting you out, you are free my friend." Slowly, John made his way from the floor and approached his captain, "Thank you" he offered his friend. He truly meant his response, for he felt no ill will towards his friend, he had been to well versed to the laws and he had also known that in some form his friend had saved him, if not from Ratcliffe- but from himself.

"John go and turn yourself from a bear into a man." Not until that moment had he been aware that he had grown a beard, "Yes" he thought, "How long had it been." He touched the hair on his face although in the darkness he knew it was gold, a shade that would match is eyebrows, a shade that was slightly darker than that of is head. "Trust me my friend I shall," was Smith's reply.

"Oh and Smith stay in your cabin, I've already ordered our governor to start acting like one, Ratcliffe will scout and he's all ready forgotten our first goal.." Smith finished for him, "To survive." "Yes to survive. I fear that he is a threat not only to you but also to us all. He is the law here and I greave for us." With a nod of agreement, John made his way to the light and to the openness of the deck. As he made his way to his cabin the inhaled his first breath of freedom and knew his redemption was soon ahead.

Powhatan Village 

_1607_

In the women's hut Pocahontas, as well as Nakoma, and the rest of her father's wives anointed their bodies in oils and adorned themselves in mantles of feather of various shades as well as the sacred symbols past from generation to generation. Tonight, she would dance, tonight she would let the worries and the anguish in her heart die. She knew in her heart also that this night held the time when she would receive the marks stating her status as a daughter of the king and she in her own right was due the powers of her linage. She had chosen the palest doeskin she owned, draping over her body that glistened copper by the firelight.

The bodice of her dress accentuated her womanly curves and relived the right amount of bosom to be discrete and without being restrictive. On her head, she placed the rings of copper adorned with eagle feathers and heard the request of Nakoma who would also wear doeskin but of a darker verity. "Here is your mantel."

She gazed down at the crimson feathers so loving sewn together, it had been made by her mother, given to her for this night. Noticing her friend's sudden quietness Nakoma lent forward and gave her friend all the strength, she could muster within herself to chase away Pocahontas's fear. "She is with you and I will hold your hand," Nakoma expressed as she clung to her friend.

Although never being marked herself Nakoma understood Pocahontas's fear and of the longing for a mother that she would never know. Released from the hug Nakoma placed the mantel upon her friend a stood marveling at beauty and majesticness that she knew Pocahontas possessed. The moment was interrupted by a message from her father to come to him. With a last hug from Nakoma she headed to her father.

"You called father" "Yes there are a things you must know" At his words she felt trepidation rise within her, "What's wrong father." "My child war has made me weary and I fear for my people. "Father you are strong and I am here." "I know that Pocahontas but I still fear. I need someone to inherit some of my responsibilities." "I will help you father just…" However, the look in her father's eyes told her that she could not.

"The council does not allow women, it has never been done." The hope in Pocahontas' voice almost made him believe that her words could ring true. "But you could change that father." "Child, I can not and already the council believes that you control my actions already."

To this she could not deny, she had helped her father pass judgment the all knew it. "Daughter they would say you have too much power." "I am sorry father." "I know daughter. But here in this very longhouse while you dressed one of my chieftains that I trust, has asked for your hand for his son. As your father I have given it."

She could not keep the astonishment from her face, the Meda was right and she couldn't help but wonder if this brave could bring her happiness and in the same turn help her father. It was Powhatan's turn to look astonished, he had always hoped she would find a match for he had loved her mother and he wanted that for his child.

"Daughter he is from the north is even on his way home as I speak. It will be next harvest before a settlement in this issue will be reached. But trust this, just be ready for your place when it comes." She turned from her father then, to hide the anger that he would see in her eyes. She would do anything for her father and yes she would enter this marriage for her father sake, but she wanted the choice.

Her anger arose from the knowledge that she was already given away before she even could even agree to it. Suddenly, the dark thought entered her mind "Was I given away for honor like my mother." As her anger threatened to envelope her it receded with the knowledge that it was to never meant for her to have agreed.

She was property, property of her father, his to do with what he liked, this was already written generations ago, this was the law of women's existence. Some how this knowledge comforted her, this had happened to others and would continue to happen, somehow they survived and with her prayers she would too. She only hoped that who ever this brave was that he was the "Him" in which the Meda spoke of.

_North America _

_1607_

"I told you to march," was Ratcliffe's order to his men, they had been doing that all day. Tired and weighed down by their armor the men slowly made there way through the swamp as mosquitoes and other insects harassed them. "Boy I said move" and with a hard push Thomas hit the ground with thud. As the redhead fought to gather himself up Ratcliffe again shouted "I told you to march, it's minutes from night fall and we will make it back to the ship."

Thomas nodded in submission not wanting to anger the governor again. He knew before long Ratcliffe would get them all killed. Thomas even disagreed with the site the governor had chosen, a desolate swampy place near the river as the Radcliffe stated "good for gold" but what about survival.

That was Thomas's question. As he straightened himself Thomas thoughts echoed what he had heard other men of his station, sailors, farmers, labors, and even some other kinder gentlemen hope and prayed, that sometime soon Smith would lead the fledgling band of settlers. The sky entered it's myriads of colors as the sunset entered the kingdom of night. Somewhat frightened by what the dark in this new land could bring the men quickened their pace as they reach the mouth of the forest swamp and then soon to their shallops near by. Thomas overcome by a nagging tension made his way to the head of the group. As his steps led him on, the peace of the wooded area was broken by the anguish cry that spun him around.

The water was warm to Smith's his body. He had lounged in the makeshift tub feeling his muscles relax under the weight of the water. As he washed away the grime that had threatened permeate itself within him, so too did he wash away his old self. He had vowed to himself that he would make a new start, he was tired, yes tired was the word. His thoughts then turned to "Now how could a young man my age, in my twenties" he added "could be tired."

Then he answered himself, "Why of course wondering since the age of fifteen, making no roots- no ties, and expecting to die by the sword in which I weld. I feel old because everyone else is old." Those were his answers. As he lifted himself out of the water and stared at the grime left behind and made the vow that he would be a better man, a new man to himself and to others. He would protect this venture and help it to survive and maybe just maybe help heal himself in the process.

As he dried, he recounted each an every scar he'd ever received during his troublesome journey of discovery. He had gotten glory praise and honor, but what did it cost him? Most recently the cut on his left shoulder, he gingerly touched the scar and thought "again fighting in war that was not my own nor my king's." The scar or any of the others did not take away from his appeal he thought "I'm still a feast for the eyes. Yes, he thought this and then laughed it off. But no, again he thought he was not bad, "I was admired, deemed 'extraordinary' by some women of the court and then challenged by their husbands."

He had been subject to court intrigue, spent many a nights were he should not, and can't forget the guilt. He had guilt- like he had betrayed some part of himself, for he had, they used him and he realized that now, that was grime but that was all gone now. He thought, "Yes John that's all gone now." He dressed simple yet put together and most importantly not in rags. He did reap some befits form his endeavors and as he began to shave the beard of his interment he contemplated, "Yes the gentlemen might think I'm trash, but they can't say I dress like one."

As he readied to bring the last stoke to remove the remaining hair of the beard he had grown, he heard it. His ears did not fool him there were screams and he knew the screams of dying men all too well. He rushed from the cabin and made it to the ship's railing. In the twilight he saw men massacred before him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Thomas turned in time to see the arrow strike the man in what he was sure was his heart, blood rose from the man's mouth, this triggered Thomas to run. There was no warning to the Englishmen there had not meant to be one. Silently covered by darkness they crept, it would be five that would do so much damage to the large group of armed English. Without any alert to danger they had been stocked for the later part of the whole day. With using only arrows, the five naturals cut through the party leaving a wake of terror and echoing through the forest.

Thomas ran and ran then as in slow motion he saw the man in front of him fall to the earth. Through the corner of his eyes he saw the natural nearest him shoot Ratcliffe-he taking an arrow to the shoulder. Thomas knew then that the next shot would be him and in that instant knew he would have to fight for his life.

Turning his body and aiming in the same turn, he let matchlock ignite and with the noise of thundering clouds the ball was released. Thomas watched as it connected with flesh spinning the natural with the force of a powerful hand. For that moment there was sheer silence and in that horrible moment he knew he had taken a life.

The sound of more gun blast woke Thomas from his trance and he began again is race to the shallops. Dazed and unaware of those around him he finally saw the beach and helped push the nearest boat into the water. With muscles straining he and those in his shallop fought the incoming tide slowly making their way back to the ship.

John ran to Newport who watched the carnage before him. In a dry voice John spoke, "He underestimated them, he never felt it coming, God he probably didn't know what the hell the danger was." "Smith, Ratcliffe caused it himself, to survive you need to survival skill and if he wants to stay governor he best learn them."

"Good men are dying out there," Smith answered. "And we will grieve for them." The first rowboat reached the ship, both Newport and Smith help bring up their comrades. With immense pity John look upon Thomas. From the boy's eyes John knew in his heart, that this night Thomas's innocence had been taken from him, like his so long ago. The rowboats continued to come in. Ratcliffe was hauled upon the deck.

Upon seeing him John's anger overtook him and he charged at the governor, however his movement were prevented by the restraint of both Newport and Thomas. "You killed them," Smith spat out over bared teeth. "I was shot because of you," was Ratcliffe's response. "I didn't put me in that hell hole, you did that. They would be alive if wasn't for your jealousy."

Half dragging, half pushing Thomas and Newport forced John to his cabin. "Thomas, he killed them and I'm not even sure if it had been I that that massacre wouldn't have happened." "John it was five of them, just five," Thomas spoke in a hushed voice and then it broke with "and I killed one, I killed someone." John let go of his anger and embraced his friend, John let the boy cry on his shoulder as he had done so long ago. John's thought lingered to, "And tomorrow, we will gather our dead and bury them on the beach."

Powhatan Village 

_1607_

It had hurt, the continuous tapping of the skin, the braking, then dye rubbed into the skin to make the marks have color. The one situated around her arm had hurt the worst, also she had found that the then lined marks that circled around her thighs had not taken the longest. With the last tap she was allowed to set up, somewhat gingerly she made it to the long house door.

She emerged like a child out of the great mother, to tenderness and love. The feast had already begun, and now she would take her place among the dancers to give praise to safe return of their emperor and the bountiful harvest granted to them by their gods. Stretching her long legs and lithe body to rhythms and chants of her people, Pocahontas performed in leaps, bends, bounds that she had not remembered since the freedom of her youth. Humbly dragged from the crowd for a rest by Nakoma the two sat in grass listing to wind as it played along their skin.

"My father has asked me to marry, no not asked, has given me away to marriage Nakoma." "When will you learn that it is our way, we have no choice. You have always wanted to break tradition." "It still hurt to know that the one person you love the most has given you away," with this a tear slid down her face. "Nakoma I am not trying to break tradition, I just want the choice of who I give myself to, who I love. Why is that so hard." "I don't know why it's hard, it just is. And maybe he is the man in which Meda spoke," Nakoma answered. "I pray Nakoma."

From the distance they saw they runner enter. "Pocahontas is he not a runner for your uncle the werowance." "It is" Pocahontas gathered herself and moved a quickly as she could to her father's long house. "Attacked pale men," she heard her father's voice boom. She moved through the crowd to take her place near him. "The were men of no color and used weapons that we have not seen before. However we did beat them back from our shores," the runner answered.

"It was like once before and as the prophecy foretold. These pale strangers are a threat to us we must drive them out," the eldest counsel member offered. "Father, we don't know what they are here for if we act.." However, she was cut off by the member of the counsel "she might be the woman of the prophecy, she will destroy us with what she carries between her legs." The insult hurt, it cut deep, because she was woman- she was cursed and because of the power she _could_ grasp she was _hated_. Never in her days could she think she could destroy her people and she would not accept that for her fate. "No," it was the one word that escaped her lips and it startled because they expected her to concede- or worse cry like the women she was.

However, they had misjudged her will, for she had will. "Father, if we learn nothing of them, then we will not know how to defeat them if they are a threat. Learn from them if they must be destroyed. Let the lust of war cool." "You daughter knows not ..," the member stressed however he was cut off by Powhatan. "No she knows not nor do we, if they comeback don't attack, we must learn how to defeat this new enemy of ours for our own sake." Pocahontas eyes rolled back as she let out a tentative sigh of relief, for she knew this was the beginning of her fate. "Now go and partake of the festivities," was Powhantan's command. However, as the room began to clear she felt her father take hold her trembling hand and she knew that what was started by her outburst had bagan the power struggle between emperor and council.


	4. Chapter 4 Receptions

Is this chapter format more readable than the others?

Chapter 4- Receptions

North America- Jamestown

1607

"Newport, we need food. It's been two months a Ratcliffe is still using men to mine for gold and not food. He will kill us."

"John, I know but he is the law here."

"What about the council."

"John my friend they have barred you from it for the time being, your interment their excuse."

John's words were low then, "You know it was my right to defend my honor and I am right in that."

"Yes, I know that but they don't and for the most the council is made of his friends."

"If I can't intercede to the council when it's formed, you can."

"John, before winter I will be headed back to England to bring more settlers over, they will not let me intercede."

"Just try.."

"John, I have heard enough, I know what type of man you are, a man of action, not one as of now to letting others do your intentions. Why now. I tell you fight for seat on the council."

"Newport, I intend to do just that, but we need to survive now, we need food now and I can't do that. Till I have the seat, I will stand by. But when I do get it trust that changes will come."

"I understand. Now my friend you must scout. We need to know the terrain, what it offers, and more over were the naturals of this land lie. We must defend ourselves form them, can you handle that," Newport recorded.

With a slight smirk John replied, "You, know as well as I that I can. You have seen my skills as I fought naturals before."

"Well by all means leave."

John quickly made his way out of the tent into the warm air of the midday. As he past the newly erected north face of fortification that they humbly named in honor of their king- Jamestown, he was somewhat elated. He had helped with the plans, the felling of the dense tree that were turned to post, and moreover he had put his own energy towards the colony's safety- and all this the most brought a smile to his face.

As he moved towards his tent he was aware of the eyes that watched him, most of them held contempt and more that likely hatred- he thought on this and was sure of hatred, but in the eyes of the worker- the common folk like him he saw hope. What this hope was he wasn't sure, maybe hope that that just might survive this wild untamed land, or maybe it was the hope and faith that they had in him one day he would led them.

He nursed his own hope of this, yes when did make it to the council he would caste down the barriers of class and let the common man make his mark on this land and have the freedoms to a life without restrictions. Yes it would all change once he was seated. He entered the darkness of the tent in which he shared with Thomas and gathered the needed equipment for his task. He glanced at the open book strum across the makeshift cot, note about new land already fill its pages, he had decided long before the journey that he would turn his observations into a book if ever given the chance and to this he would do. With gun in hand he made his way into the unknown.

Powhatan Village 

_1607_

"Nakoma I'm going out."

"Your father said not too."

"Well I am, I will be back soon."

"How could you go out there with the pale ones lurking around."

"I am afraid Nakomia but I need my freedom,"

And with that Pocahontas exited the long house. She passed women skinning the newest pelts that would later be undoubtedly turn to moccasins for the harsh winter that would soon be approaching. As she walked she was humbled by the vast felids of tall corn that stood like kings against the back drop of the high sun.

She felt overwhelming pride in her people as she looked over the abundance that their Gods had allowed to spring forth form the earth. It was in the humbling moment that she felt no greater strength. The forest was humid, he expected it to be. He had already maped a small portion in his notes when he came along the river to find a forest protected waterfall with it's loud roaring that spoke like ten thousand lions.

As the water radiated from the rock, he caught the prisms of light that it reflected. The reds, the green, the faint blues all wonderful in his view. He couldn't help to be marveled a beautiful sight that God created. In awe he sat down his objects on the bank, temptation had been too much. The water was unbelievably cool against his body he had ventured into the small section of the fall's and simply walked in. His men would think him maddened, but in this heat he didn't care.

With gentle footfalls she entered the forest usually it would have been cool here but summer had taken its due. She fallowed the path of the river occasionally picking up stones to throw or flower she would later ornament her hair with. She loved the silence, the peacefulness of nature, and of course the beauty of her homeland, with the quick thought she knew were she would head next- the most beautiful place she knew.

She had seen him and her heart stopped. Arms raised and eyes closed like a priest offering prayer to one of her Gods. Her brain screamed for her to run but her body wouldn't move, she had not the strength to move, so she stood- waiting for the doom she expected. Strange, it was as if he felt the air had changed, suddenly lighter, and that's when his eyes opened and there on the other bank she stood.

He had seen beauty, in both the human and natural world but she, she was a thing of both. The women in court possessed grace and beauty or money if those two did not suffice, however they did not parallel to what she was- beautiful. The air had truly changed and a wind blew her long locks, black like coals, across her face. His first instinct was to reach for his rifle for he knew even beauties could kill, but his body could not make the action-he was held there.

They peered at each other for the first time and locked in the trance cast by both. The trance was broken by her movement, she ran. It was if a part of her that she never knew she had stirred and it was enough to complete the task of moving and she did with a speed she hadn't known she had. To home she would go.

John stood still, with his body locked he saw as she ran and part of him wanted to go after her, however his leg wouldn't let him. It was long after she left before he could move. He could track her, but what good would it do he would never see her again and what if there were others, leave it up to him she would led him to the nest.

"But wasn't that what he was supposed to do, find the nest," he thought. However, he felt trepidation at this.

In all his time as a soldier, he had not felt this, the guilt if seeking out an enemy, but was she his enemy? This vexed him gravely as he began his march back to Jamestown. As he walked he made the decision to keep this interlude to himself. With her heart pounding she gradually slowed her pace, thankful she was that he did not follow her. Treachery, to her own words, yes she had spoken

"Learn from them." Now how would they, how would she learn from them if she ran. She felt guilt for this.

"His eyes" she mouthed. In them she had seen much.

They were the color of a pale winter sky, "absolutely wonderful" she thought.

But what shocked her most of all was what she deemed unnatural, the color of his hair. It was a yellowish gold that was adjoined to that pale face and body. His hair had reminded her of the ripened corn. She wondered why he had not chased her, he looked to be in the same fit muscled condition of her own people's braves. But, she stopped her thought, she was glad he didn't follow. However, if she faced the truth he had awakened something within her, something she didn't moreover couldn't have the right to feel, and this shook her most of all. As she made her way to the gates of her kingdom she vowed to herself that she would burry these feelings and hoped that she would never see him again.

John had arrived to the gates of Jamestown just in time hear the naming of the new council of which undoubtedly Radcliffe by him being the designated leader would rule as president. That was until he could change it. He walked towards the large crowd and stood at the back. He saw Newport as he held the stretched parchment that had been sealed since they left London. There he stood high above the crowd of men surrounding him.

"And the last two names are," Newport sounded, " Edward Wingfield and John Smith."

He could hear the gasps that were followed, some of happiness and others of revulsion. Well it had been official and just not to himself, the stockholders did want him in a seat of on the council. However, he knew what happened on the ship would, heck had hindered this.

Knowing that he must Newport announced, "Unfortunately, Smith will not be allowed to council at this time."

Now the gasps John heard were of defeat and elation. His men were upset he could tell but they knew he would find a way to fix this grave error against him. The men turned to leave and as he walked to his tent, Thomas caught up with him and they walked together.

"John you had made it to the.." "I know." "What are you going to do." "Work like hell and show them they need me." "But how." "God knows Thomas, God knows." John then moved the flap and entered the tent.

"Pocahontas, your father has call for you."

"Thank, Nakoma," Pocahontas replied as she got up off her fur bed.

"What could father want at this time," she thought.

The guards of Powatan's long house whisked her inside.

"Daughter." "Yes father." "I request that you journey to your uncle's and collected the taxes of his village that is due to me."

"I will do ask father," she answered solemnly.

"Their will also be perparing feast in honor of my great defeat of the Monacans and you will act as my approval of the celebration, for I am needed here."

"I understand," again, she said it in that same solemn voice. "Child are you grieved." "No father just tired."

She wondered if he could see the lie in her eyes. "Well on this journey you will have time to rest." She nodded and headed back to her longhouse. Lies, when had she started to lie to her father.

John had lain prostrate on his cot, as sleep would not come to him. His thoughts had nagged him to this godforsaken hour,

"When would he challenge for council or could he even do this?" "How would they survive with the food store already dwindling" "Who was she." He thought of her and he scoffed himself for this, it had been months since he had thought of a women or for that matter had one, now he lay thinking of some natural."

But, he took this back, she had been some natural- a beautiful one. As he lay, he knew somewhere she was out there and that deep down she had changed something about him, just what that was he did not know.


	5. Chapter 5 Survival

Chapter 5- Survival

_North America_

_1607_

"John we need to trade, they say the winter is fast approaching," a auburn haired council member stated.

John nodded in agreement, although he also felt more should be done maintain their own substance through the growth of crops. However, he knew that Radcliffe would allow the release of the men to do such work. "Gold came first," if the stockholders could have seen, they had a goldmine in lumber and other recourses, but they could not see nor could Radcliffe.

As a matter of fact Radcliffe now looked at him with contempt written all over his face, madden at John's acquisition of fifteen men to journey on his trading party. John smiled in the face of that contempt, it warmed him after much pleading to the sane member of the council that he had somewhat started his plans for the colony and to know that he had just struck the first of many blows to contempt of others. He wished Newport would have been there to see him, he had made his first move but Newport had already taken to the sea early. Now he was on his own, the way he liked it to be. Now he and his allotment of men would leave as soon he gathered the need supplies for their journey.

"Welcome, daughter of my brother, Pocahontas," It was her uncle.

It always irked her the way his formality always had an air of mockery held in it. He was family and a leader of his own village, but of course, he was subject to the rule of her father the emperor. He was jealous of his brother she knew that, but what would he do of given the chance to inflect that jealousy upon her father, she did not know.

"I am delighted to be here and my father, the king, send his good will to you." She was then lead by her uncle's favorite wife to her lodgings were she would sleep until the festivities began later.

"John the casket is heavy," Thomas complained, carrying the small casket that contained the items they would trade. "I know that's why I had you to carry it."

"Well thanks a lot."

At that John smiled and batted at the redhead's cap that was slowly tilting over the boys eyes due to weight of the casket. John knew how much it weighed and it was heavy- copper, tools, clothing and small hand hatchets. But, he carried what he knew the natives would hold in high regard, or at lest the two friendly natives that he had run across three days before had. While scouting, he found them fishing, unarmed, and receptive. He had spoken to them in Algonquin and they understood, he mentally thanked himself for studying the language before he left London.

With the natives, he had traded small blue glass beads for information on a village that he could trade to for food. They said the beads were the color of the sky and that they must contain the energy from their Sky God and then they hurriedly told him of a village to trade with. Now here they were close to the village from his directions. It was near dusk when they saw the village. It teemed with life and he could see women gathering the necessities to cook food, men working as children played around them, and lastly he saw the setting up of some sort of celebration.

They had seen the small group approach and they let them, for they had been ordered not to kill unless needed, so that they might learn how to defeat the pale people. John approached and spoke a greeting in their language. They understood and admitted the group into the city. John faced what they had called the werowance- or sub-king of from what he learned the great Powhatan and also this werowance's brother. Realizing, the nature of situation John stepped into formality so as not to offend. In good faith John spread the trade goods across the floor of the longhouse.

The werowance approached and looked at the items and on his face made a gesture of interest, mainly at the small pile of copper. "What do your offer for these objects," John asked.

"I offer you ten baskets of corn for this, "pointing at the copper. John answered in the native language, " King- so as not to offend, this metal is valuable in my land," a lie he knew but if surviving constituted a lie well then he had too, "We would need more baskets for the price of such value."

The werowance consulted this, but he wouldn't budge. "For twenty baskets I will would give you this copper and a choice of the best hatchet," John offered. The werowance then fingered the largest hatchet.

"I can't, for we need our food to ourselves." John thought to the endless rows of corn he had seen as they approached the village and John knew what he had to do. "Werowance, I understand."

Then John pulled from his pouch one roundedly smooth sky colored glass bead and played with it in his hands. He saw the amazed look on the werowance's face. "In my land this is very rare and no one but the king and his family are allowed such beauty. To you a king could poses this for thirty baskets."

John could see the worry written in the face of the werowance but he could also see the lust the bead had caused in him.

"But you have not the men to carry such a bounty."

"If you could lend you some of your men to help carry."

John then returned the bead to the pouch and he saw the frustrated look it caused.

"Then agreed, we will give thirty baskets of corn now just hand me the blue magic."

The werowance also knew that this gave them a chance see how the pale ones lived and their number. In agreement, the John handed the bead to the werowance.

"The baskets shall he filled now, however you may stay for your festivities tonight and make camp outside the village your baskets will be filled and by the sun's awaking the men will carry them" the werowance said as he molested the bead in his hands.

John nodded. When the left the long house the sky was dark. The werowance lead John to a seating area where he and the werowance would talk, feats, and view the entertainment of the evening.

Pocahontas had just finished dressing when Nakoma burst through the doors. "Your uncle has just finished trading with a pale one did." Pocahontas looked at Nakoma with surprise.

"Your not telling me you did hear or see anything."

"No I didn't" was Pocahontas's answer.

"We're to give them thirty baskets of corn after the feast. This is no were near a good price for what they gave" "Nakoma what did they offer."

"A small round object the color of the Sky God."

"The Sky God, Nakoma." She was suddenly reminded of the eye color of the pale man of which she had seen in the forest. Pale they were, blue, the color of a God. Nakoma grabbing her hand to lead her out of the longhouse shook her out of her thought.

"Come and see for yourself, for your uncle wears it and sets beside a pale one."

Coming out she was aware of the sky and how the shadows cast before were radiated by firelight. They moved the crowds of people swiftly when she was caught by the flash of gold in front of her. Her eyes didn't lie to her, it was him, never could she thought that she would look upon him again. Then she stood again still as she did in the forest trapped by a force she didn't understand. Nakoma tugged at her hard to move forward. "No," was her answer.

"Don't you want to see him closer, with your rank you could walk right up to your uncle and to him."

"No," she said with anxiety this time.

"Why are you fearful, I've never known you to be fearful. Is it his looks? Do they displease you- for he looks unnatural."

"No, no I just don't know."

"Well we can just eat." "Fine." The two women made it to the made there way to the fire were the other women gathered to serve. Like many others, they got what they could and made their way to a group of women to converse about the newcomers. John felt the conversation lag on and on, this werowance was determined to show his strength and dominance, this of which he understood and done the same. He had to lie, lies to strengthen the colony. He wove a story that he was sure would reach the ears of this Powhatan. It was tale of how his people had been blown off course by a great sea storm and that now they awaited the great pale father to send ships to rescue them, this was partly true Newport was going to England as he spoke and would return with needed supplies that would in light rescue them.

Now he just observed while the werowance talked, all this he would some how work into his book even down to how the fire in front of him glowed a molten gold against the dark. That's when he was sure his eyes fooled him, with the turn of her head to the fire he saw her gathered with the other women. From what he could tell she was dressed wonderfully, her red feather cape hanging loosely from her shoulders. Was she even aware of him and how would she act if she saw him, what did she think of him?

He was hit then, "She'd think me a killer out on the hunt, she'd run again if she saw me." Thinking something in the bottom pit of his stomach turn, he felt sorry for himself, as if he just realized what he was- he was a killer, a trained one in fact. The women talked of the strange pale men gathered by what they figured was their ruler.

They talked of the smell, look, and even how the hair cover the faces of some of the men- not including the leader that had eyes the color of the Sky God or the red haired boy that sat with the older men. But to all this Pocahontas was oblivious, she concentrated on her own feelings. She had come to the decision that as an emissary to her people she had to overcome these feelings of fear. It was for her people, they relied on her and in that there was no place for fear.

Therefore, she would show strength and good will by taking to and gathering information from the golden haired one, to which the women thought to be a pale werowance by his air of command. Her uncle's voice sounded breaking her concentration, he called for the women to dance.

"Come on Pocahontas, join us in dance," her uncle's wife pleaded.

Had it been anyone else she would have turned away, even if had been Nakoma, but it would disappoint her father if her aunt or uncle complained that she wouldn't join in on the festivities in his honor. So, she conceded. Linking arms in giant circle, she joined the dance sure he would see her. The way she moved reminded him of the balls he had been to, graceful, and elegant.

However, she moved with more energy and life than could ever be found in English balls. The way she leapt and stretched her arm in a enchanting language all of there own excited him. He watched how the glow of the fire covered her face in shadow one moment and with movement give off light the next.

The werowance had coveted the blue bead for magic, but to him she was magic itself. He enjoyed this moment and placed it in his heart. His men enjoyed it also and John could her their laughter and lustful banter, he was glade no one understood them. A brave approached the werowance's and John overheard that their baskets were ready for the pale ones to take them to their camp and that the natives would be ready for the trek by the morn. Suddenly, John felt uneasy, he knew what the next words would be from the werowance, a dismissal.

He was right and he gathered his men to carry the loads of corn to a site that they would camp at in the dark, a hard task. John however felt reluctant to leave, he wanted to watch her dance but he had to give up that dream and continued with his men. From her circle watched him leave and she knew what she had to do. He had chosen a site and he stood watching as the last few baskets were carried out. He was outside the city walls and had begun to fallow his men when he felt a soft touch. Turing on his heels he looked into her face and it conquered him. Turning from her he had made a call to his men that she did not understand, but instead of walking off he stayed, her hand still attached to his arm. He had told his men not to worry, that he would be on later.

As quickly as he had turned his head, he faced her again. He could tell she was shocked, maybe because she did not expect him to stay or maybe that he had allowed her to continue touching his arm. He knew enough of emotions to see written in her face agitation. She however, no matter how hard she tried would not be able to read him as easily. He had been learned never betray your true feeling, if you do that it could kill you, never show how things affected you. Life had taught him this and for him anger was the only emotion he allowed himself to display, if he chose to. To ease her mind he did the only thing he could think of, he said hello. Pocahontas felt her eyes widen and he saw it.

She responded back "Wingopo."

He then told her his name John Smith and the in what surprised her crude Algonquin asked her name. With a steady voice, she mouthed the word that would live in his soul,

"Pocahontas." With her answer, he felt as he had never.

"Pocahontas, your dance was wonderful," he spoke.

He was marveled by her kindness and of the way she spoke as she thanked him for comment. Tender, with a deep rumble was his voice and she liked the way her name sounded as he spoke.

"I am sorry for running from you the day in forest."

Apologize, he had not expected that, if he would have been in her position he would have done the same. Nor had he ever expected to ever see her again. In addition, this he told her, "No apology, fear is a needed emotion it keeps you alive. I just never thought we would meet again as now."

A small smile spread across her lips and he gave her one of his own. He had stayed longer than he intended and need to bid his leave. "I must go to my men, maybe one day we will meet again."

Pocahontas gave a nod. As she turned to head back towards the village, he touched her shoulder. It was the area were her mantle had slid off in her run to catch him. To her exposed shoulder, his hand was warm. His heavy gaze locked to hers. As they stood eye-to-eye she felt the roughness of his hand pull the fallen mantle back across her skin covering her to the night air.

In this motion his eyes had changed and she was sure hers had too. Swiftly he turned and left. She watched him until he was engulfed into a sea of darkness. By morn, they would venture to there own homes, but this night nether would sleep.


	6. Chapter 6 and 7 Deliverance

Ok, so this stories is not to popular, but --here are some more chapters anyway. Sorry for the slow pace, butI need this back story to off set some of the majorconflects that I hope will take place in this story.

Thank you to all that have reviwed and given support.

Chapter 6- Deliverance

_North America- Jamestown_

_1607_

"The council is pleased with your endeavors with the natives over these past months and we would like to offers you your seat to the council as the head of native relations. Do you accept" Would he accept, of course, hadn't this what he had been waiting for. He face showed the calm countered expression he always showed his superiors. However, his hidden emotions were of pure elation and confidence. He enjoyed most of all watching Ratcliffe's face twist. John new his new success added to the hate Ratcliffe had for him, but hewould have to settle that later.

"I accept with honor. Trust that I will serve the people to the best of my abilities." He wondered if they would notice that he vowed to serve the people and not the council, it was amazing what word choice could do. It always helped that the people you tried to fool thought you of lesser quality and thus lack the education to have deceived them in such a manor.

"Then it is all settled, you may trade and do as you see fit on the native problem. "No they didn't notice," he thought. As he walked out his men had clasped him on the back and murmured congratulations to him. He felt jubilant and now he had the freedom to discover about his new land he now called home. He knew what he had to do, he would venture forth into the wilderness to study the land, it resources (particularly how to get a steady supply of corn till they could grow their own), but most important on his journey he would study its native people. He differ from previous views held on how to deal with native peoples, he would treat them, as they were-useful entities.

As he sat in the shallop filled with the five men he had chosen to take with him, he felt guilt. It was the guilt of leaving Thomas behind. The boy had pleaded with him, "John it would be my first adventure," and he had responded "By coming to this land you had already started your adventure" then he said firmly "No."

He hated to leave him but he could not risk it if his friend was injured that would hurt his heart; he never liked to see anyone die especially a friend. No he sat waiting and from what he could tell far to the North and days from the friendly last friendly village that he had discovered so far on this journey. His thought was broken as he saw an arrow pierce the chest of the man in front of him. Instinct had kicked in an he reached for the gun beside him. He knew in what direction they were coming from west, it had to be. In the panic his men, paddled faster in the freezing water, hoping to find shelter of at lest make it closer to the shore and then fight.

But John knew as he aimed at his unseen target that that would not happen. He heard an anguish cry as a man near the rear was struck. They were well hidden and God knows how many there were of them, but he took a chance and fired. Scatter and movement, them he reloaded seeing another of his aim in the same direction. The brave had suddenly moved out expecting, not to be hit, but John had been faster aim accurate and the out come utterly deadly. The bullet struck the natives chest and it burst open like a child from the womb. Slowly falling to his knees John heard him call his God. In retaliation he heard the blood thirsty cry of out rage, sudden, and more arrow shots as they entered his men. He shot again a from the gasp he knew he his something, moreover someone and again lifting a fallen comrades gun did they the same and with the exact out come. As soon as the shallop hit the land, he was out and with drew his sword. With rustling from the bush out came a brave running full force at him. John had the breadth and strength enough to with stand the force coming at him, but that was not his plan. With war club raised, the native ran, however John started in motion an irreversible movement. John, connected with the brave using his own momentum and weight to swipe his enemy to the ground and in the same motion grabbing the knife from his boot, driving it home to the heart of his adversary.

He watched as the face beneath him grew lifeless and he became numb. Then, it was over. Only him and another man, Green, were alive. One by one the natives came out and it was a size able force fifteen there was no need to struggle, John and Green would be dead before they could ever have killed them all. John felt himself lifted from the body before him. He stood tall, straight, silent, and with dignity, if he was going to die, he wanted it this way. He knew if he struggled against it or showed weakness his death would long and painful.

"Green don't struggle," He had pleaded. However, the very human emotion of fight took over and Green struggled. He thrashed about, even spit into the native faces. For this he would die now. John watched as they took Green to a tree, striped open the loose shirt, bound him to it. A bled was driven over the meat of his chest, slowly lifting defleshing the meat from the bone. Blood cover Green and ran thick across the ground, all the while Green asked, "God have mercy."

They moved to the stomach easily disemboweling him. John wanted to scream, he had seen death and the many types it could be worked, but what was before him sickened him still. Finally, it was over Green lay lifeless throat slit as he lay on the ground after the strings had been cut. They dragged John, hit him, and even pressed a knife to his throat but he would cry out asking for mercy for he refused to die. The punches hurt, knocked him to the ground but he got up.

This angered his captors even more and in the native language he heard the angered order to stop. "This ambush was not ordered," a robust man in his middle years called. With his own anger the brave in front of John responded, "He has killed my brother and I must be avenged." "For this I would grant but according to the laws of war this captive has acted as any brave would, to kill those who threatened his life. Look for he has not cowered now, if he had, you could have killed him now," the older man spoke. "Then when shall I take his life." "Kocoum, we will take him to the our king Powhatan and he would decide his fate." "So the brave's name was Kocoum," John thought, "I will remember that." The group pushed John and he began his forced march to the great Powhatan.

_Powhatan Village _

_1607_

"The one of my chiefs from the North will be here by the fall of the sun tomorrow. Make ready for his arrival and then I shall pass judgment on his captive," Powhatan ordered. As council members filed out of the room the most powerful member of the council, Mattenock, approached the king. "They say this pale one might be a great Werowance, that he holds honor as if he was one of our own braves," Mattenock spoke. "Yes, they say he faced the danger, and brought down many of our men.

All of this happened because my orders were betrayed," Powhatan relayed to Mattenock.

"This pale one should die, he is our enemy."

"It is true Mattenock but if my orders were followed the ambush would not have happened and the chief's son would be alive," and Powhatan also thought "My daughters marriage and the subsequent shift of power would not be in jeopardy."

"What will you do," Mattenock asked.

"Wait till they arrive. No bring my daughter to me and you may go." At the word "daughter" Mattenock's face curled and he did contain the bitterness of his voice, "As you wish mighty Powhatan."

Again pulled from her troubled sleep Pocahontas made he way to her father's fur lined throne. "I am troubled child." Nearing before her father she spoke, "I am here." It brought the comfort that he needed and her gently cupped her face in his hands.

"Daughter, if I don't allow revenge upon this white man, your marriage and the lessening of my burden will be forfeit." "I understand father do as your will." I it hurt her that someone, depending how her father ruled, might die for this marriage. However, she would do anything for her father and it was his will that would be done, what could she do.

"Know thus daughter that I will do what is best."

She gathered herself and headed back to her fitful sleep. As the sun rose John knew it was the day he was to be taken to Powhatan's capitol city. He had no reservations of hope left and my nightfall he would die. It was a beautiful day to him, the say high and blue as his eyes, even the birds sang in the winter morning. Through the night he had made it peace with god and heaven help him this night.

"Pocahontas get up they are expecting you there," she thought. She could not bring her self to do it, she wanted to stay in the safety her covers held. However, that was not possible. She would meet her future husband and he would be asking to take the life of the man who had driven a knife through his brothers heart and strangely she wanted to look upon the face of the man who had done this, killed one of her people. Should she? It was with this question that she readied herself. Pocahontas moved into the shadow of the room. She could feel warmth of the huge fire the glowed red-orange firelight. No one had noticed her as she gathered in among her father's wives along the wall. She had a good view and heard the war drums as the chief from the North entered and along side was a brave, undoubtedly her husband. She approved of his appearance, but that was not what she was looking for, how would his actions tonight affect her? This was what she was looking for.

"Great Powhatan my brother in war," the chief announced Powhatan stood and embraced him and calling the chief brother. "I have come for to ask your judgment on a captive that killed my son." "I understand, was Powhatan's reply. With a nod from to one of his generals the chief had ordered the captive to be brought be for the king. The noises of pushing could he herd for outside as Pocahontas held her breath and waited for who ever would come through that door.

They had beaten him and he still had not cried out. Now they came as he sat in the dark. Pulling him roughly from the ground a gasp had come from his lips, his broken rib had been irritated. The pain that seared through his body made him slow, in order to quicken him pushing was the remedy. This was how he entered the longhouse. Pocahontas's intense gaze was focused on the man they called her enemy, but she knew him as John. Unconsciously, she swallowed the lump that had started in the back of her throat. She could tell that he had faced his tormentors bravely, refusing to cry out if he had, he wouldn't have been here now, despite blood that trickled down his mouth and the wounds that bleed beneath his shirt he had stood his ground. She felt pity for the prisoner and she blinked back tears. In the darkness, she could not see his eyes and dragging in a ragged breath, she remembered the vivid blue that they were.

Seeing the pale man before him Powhatan spoke, "You have killed members of my people and for this you should die, but you have and even now act with the strength of one of my own braves."

"It was Kocoum who spoke next, "Great emperor he has taken from me my brother, my father's son who now sits with you. We ask to be allowed our vengeance upon this animal."

Powhatan heard the anger and bitterness in Kocoum voice and he sympathized, but could he order the death of some one who acted, as any brave would have, to defend his life? But for his daughter he would. "It was under my order that the pale ones were to be left alone and that was broken. However, this man has taken much life from us and he is a killer, but let it be known that he has the will of a Werowance."

"Great King." It was loud and as it boomed across the room, it carried the strength of their own great Powhatan. It was John who spoke and he heard as gasps went across the room. The king turned and looked at the man standing in front of him, tall and immobile. "Great King, I have killed your people but it was only after my life was threatened. I have made peace and have traded with your own brother in his land, all I wish is for peace between my people and yours," John spoke in near perfect native language.

Over a mixture of self-loathing, hate, and pity Powhatan asked, "Why have you and yours come to my land." "We were blown her in a great storm and we await for our boat to rescues us," John lied and he hated this, eventually they would realize the truth.

"Liar" was the voice of Mattenock, "they have built a city of wood."

John responded, "Only for protection as we wait."

"Enough," It was the voice of Powhatan, he had made his decision, for his daughters sake and he knew what he had to do.

"You pale one have killed and for this you will die. I will grant you a warriors death." Then Powhatan commanded, "Bring out the stones." John knew it was over and his shoulders dropped. Silently he said a prayer and wished there were a priest of his own people that he could repent to, he just hoped that his God would forgive him and see the good man he had always tried to be. She saw the look of triumph in Kocoum's face and she hated it. She watched John and could not keep the tears from her eyes, they were hot and slid down her face to hit the ground silently. Fear griped her mind and she realized their was nothing she could do for the man she had this unforeseen connection, which confused her very soul. She gasped when she saw the stone brought out and was laid facing her direction.

Awaken from his prayers by a hard hand gripping his shoulders, John felt himself lowered as if to kneel, but he would not kneel with out a fight. He struggled and it was the weight of three men that finally brought him down. In the movement of falling to the ground he saw her and she him, their eyes locked as once before. He could see the tears the stained her face and he thought, "She cries for me" as his head was lowered to the stone. His eyes broke her heart for they pleaded to her heart and she felt emotions that she thought she would never feel for any man.

Powhatan handed Kocoum the wart club, he would have the honor of killing the man who had killed his only brother. Kocoum in one movement brought the club high above his head and in this motion Pocahontas's heart took over her body. As the mighty club made it's downward move to its target she landed on top of John, her head cradling his own bellow her. In that moment she felt as one with him, connected soul to soul, heart to heart. The club stopped a second from her head. "Move woman," was Kocoum order.

"Quite boy for you don't know who you now ordered, this is our kings daughter" was Mattenock's angered call.

She then turned to her father, eyes still wet with tears, "Has there not been enough blood shed already. I will protect this man who acted as any brave would have. Now I claim him as my own and under my protection." "Daughter move," was Powhatan's angered growl. "Father, I will not have anyone die even to protect me."

In unison both Kocoum and his father spoke, "She has no right.." But they were cut off by Powhatan. Stung by his daughter's actions and request, she had awakened the guilt he had of killing this pale man.

"My daughter is within her rights under the law and I will do as she wisely pleads, I will not take his life," Powhatan ordered. In an angered fury the chief of the North followed by Kocoum stormed from the room, head back to their own territory. As soon as the roomed cleared, only then did she move from off of John. She cupped his faced, amazed at its softness, and helped him to sit up. From the look in John's eyes and his small smile told her he was grateful to her. As they looked eye-to-eye she knew now as he knew that they were connected. They both had felt the complete oneness that had washed over them, like ran falling into a river.

Her father ordered her to him and she dropped her hands from John's face and then moment was broken. She moved to her father and heard his words, "Daughter do you know what you have done? You have jeopardized the treaty and your marriage." No she did not know what she had done, but she had acted fully with her heart.

"Father, I done what I felt was right, but I couldn't watch this man die. You said it yourself he is worthy to be a one of your chiefs. Father we.. I could learn for them." "Daughter I fear what you have started. Go have someone tend to him, he is now your ward. He'll be returned to his people at once. You are wise, but you will suffer for this action to night." It wasn't as threat, just a foretelling, but just the same it shook her. In the moment she moved from the wall, she knew she would suffer for her action, if not now, later. However, now she felt rightness in her heart, to save have saved John's life, she was certainly willing to suffer the consequences.

Chapter 7

_North America, Powhatan Village_

_1607_

"Great Powhatan." At the call of his name, Powhatan turned to face Mattenock. "Yes," the great king answered. Mattenock approached the king gracefully but his motion was cut short by the anger that appeared in his face.

"The council is angered at the princess's action tonight, she has upset the balance. She refuses to see her place."

"Mattenock it was her right by our laws."

"Great king she will be our destruction," Mattenock spat. Gathering close to Mattenock's face Powhatan spoke with the coldness he felt in his heart, "She is my daughter."

"Then great king control her," Mattenock spoke as he backed away from his king. Powhatan turned his back to the council member so that they could not see the anguish written in his face. Mattenock had made his way to the door and before he turned to leave said, "For our people's sake handle her, for she will destroys us" with that he left. Darkness enveloped Powhatan.

Pocahontas gathered her strength and opened the door of the longhouse. To her sight she saw Nakoma and another women bent over John cleaning off the blood that had caked along his face. He was awake and she saw his eyes flicked to her as she entered. Her eyes softened to him and by the firelight they glowed. Nakoma also turned and watched her friend's attentive approach. Gathering herself from the ground Nakoma went to her friend. Standing in front of her friend Nakoma spoke in a low tone, "What has happen to you."

"Later Nakoma," Pocahontas answered as she moved past her friend and headed to the captive. Slightly angered Nakoma headed to the door but waited. She saw her friend slowly set in front of the pensioner and take his hand. "What has changed in her," Nakoma thought as she exited the longhouse." Pocahontas thanked the native woman who had helped Nakoma and told her, "I will take over for you." The woman gave Pocahontas a confused look but did as she bid. "Thank you." The word was so soft on the air that she had missed it forcing him to repeat himself.

"Thank you Pocahontas." She nodded and took a rag from a water dish. Pocahontas wrung the rag and brought it to the bruise on his cheek. John touched her chin and brought her face to him so her eyes would meet his. He laded his hand on top of hers were it touched his cheek and spoke, "From my heart thank you for saving me." His hand was warm on top of hers and it was as if she was feeling the essence of his life. The touch had again brought the feeling of oneness that she had felt earlier. In a voice that was as soft as his was she answered him. "I just did what I felt was right. You did not deserve to die like that." Still holding her hand it was his turn to nod and the nod brought on a pain. Wincing with pain John released her hand and moved to lay upon the pallet made for him. She helped him. She saw as he lay she saw the blood that stained his shirt and with a shaky hand, she opened it. The skin was tender and she was careful not to hurt him more. John helped her clean the wound. Then he said it, "I am glad that we have met again," and it moved her heart. She had tried to block out her feelings and the touch of his hand, but it was that one sentence that had penetrated her shield and moved her heart. "I am also. I hoped that we would meet, but not like this."

"Nether did I," John spoke in his deep voice. They finished cleaning his wounds and she told him of her father's plans. "My father has ordered that you to be taken back to your people." He could not hide the surprise off his face; he realized that she must have been high ranking nobility, but he did not expect that she was the daughter of the emperor. "Your father is the king." "Yes." "Please tell him that I am grateful to his daughter who saved my life and I pledge peace between our peoples." "I shall tell him. I have to go," and she turned to leave. He grabbed her hand and her eyes closed. "When will I see you again." Composing herself she turned to him, "I do not know." "I if we never meet again know that I am thankful to you," he released and she went to the door. She stopped and looked into his eyes again and went through the door. He lay left alone with his thoughts.


End file.
